Incognito
by BohemianFling
Summary: Lee and Amanda attend a masquerade.


Title: Incognito

Summary: Lee and Amanda attend a masquerade.

Rating: PG

Timeline: October, 1988 (marriage is still secret)

Disclaimer: The Scarecrow and Mrs. King characters belong to Warner Bros. and Shoot the Moon Enterprises Ltd. The story, however, is all mine. Please don't post or redistribute this without my consent.

Thanks: Thank you to Ann, whose idea for this title led me to my twist on her suggestion and provided the initial beta, a very long time ago in a hotel room in Los Angeles. This would not be the story it is without wonderful beta help from Vicki, KimC, Shelly, and Ceeg (without whom, there would be no summary at all). I made the shoes, but they provided the shiny polish.

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Lee Stetson paused at the open Q Bureau door and observed his wife. She was intently studying a large binder that lay open on her desk. Realizing her absorption in her work prevented her from hearing him, he quietly approached to peer over her shoulder and see what was so engrossing. Peering back at him were familiar multiple images of the same woman showcasing different wigs, prosthetics, and accessories. Years ago, he'd pored over that same binder, committing every photo to memory. The myriad of combinations was mind-boggling. Even now, viewing the photos as a seasoned agent, he thought the array was impressive.

"_Covers and Disguises_ course homework?" he asked, smiling when she jumped slightly.

"Oh, Lee. I didn't hear you come in." She turned in her chair and smiled up at him. "No, it's not homework. I haven't taken the class. Well," she paused and gave him a crooked smile, "it's not the kind of homework you mean, anyway."

He gave her a puzzled look, and she reached into her lower right-hand desk drawer and rummaged in her purse for moment. Withdrawing a white card embossed with elaborate writing, she handed it to him.

" 'You are cordially invited,' " he read aloud, " 'to attend _Undercover_ on Saturday, October 29, 1988. Dress as your favorite Spy, Superhero, or Sleuth.' " Eyebrows furrowed, he turned the card over to look for further information. "What's _Undercover_, and why are we invited?"

Amanda smiled. "**We** aren't invited; Mother is. Her Eastern Star Chapter hosts an annual ball, and the planning committee comes up with a different theme every year. Last year, the theme was _The Last of the Mohicans_, and a couple years ago, it was _The Lion in Winter_. Usually, it's held just before Thanksgiving, sort of a kickoff to the holiday season. This year, they had to change the venue when a flood damaged the hall where they usually hold the ball."

"Ah. This year, it's just before Halloween instead of Thanksgiving, so—" Lee began.

"It's a masquerade ball called—" Amanda continued.

"Undercover," they finished together.

Lee pointed the invitation at the page Amanda had been reviewing. "And you've been roped into coming up with the perfect costume," he surmised.

With a sigh, Amanda nodded. "Mother has decided that undercover means truly being unrecognizable." She cocked her head to one side and perfectly mimicked her mother, " 'Amanda, **anyone** could dress up like Mata Hari, but if I were a **real** spy, I wouldn't want anyone to recognize me. I mean, when spies and detectives go undercover, they don't just dress like themselves. They use amazing disguises. That's what I want to do. I don't want anyone there to know it's me until I take off my mask and wig . . . and whatever else!' " Sighing again, Amanda continued, "That's when she decided that, since I work for a film company, I must have access to all sorts of 'amazing disguises' for her to use."

"If she only knew that we hardly ever use disguises, it'd really burst her balloon," Lee chuckled.

"I tried to tell her that James Bond never bothered to disguise himself, but she's decided to create some elaborate illusion. You know how Mother is once her mind is made up about something."

"I certainly do," Lee nodded. "So, you, being you, agreed to help her." He tapped the binder. "How, exactly, are you going to do that? You've never had to wear a disguise on the job, and you haven't even taken the _Covers and Disguises_ course."

"Really, Lee, how hard can it be? Wigs, different clothes, contact lenses . . . those are all things women use even when they're not undercover."

"Amanda, it's not as easy as it looks. Using a lot of this stuff takes special training." He flipped the pages until he reached a page describing application techniques. "Spirit gum—that's nasty stuff."

Amanda made a show of rolling her eyes. "Lee, I think I'm perfectly capable of coming up with a disguise for Mother that will fool the Eastern Star members."

Lee snorted. "You could put her in a dark wig and sunglasses and fool almost all of those people."

Amanda noticeably bristled. "As a matter of fact," she smiled sweetly, "I'll bet that I could even disguise **myself** to fool **you**."

"You've got to be kidding, Amanda," Lee scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "It takes years of practice to perfect the art of disguise. I know you well enough to spot you in a crowd . . . even a crowd full of people in masks pretending to be people they're not."

Slowly, Amanda pushed back her chair and rose to stand toe-to-toe with her husband. "Care to put your money where your mouth is, Scarecrow?" she challenged. "Mother can easily get us both invitations to the ball, and you could try and figure out which masked partygoer is me."

"Amanda, that's ridiculous. You could never fool me." Taking note of her set jaw and determined tone, he hastened to add, "But it would be fun to see you try." He lowered his voice and leaned toward her so that they were eye-to-eye. "Ever want to make out with an intelligence agent in the middle of a masquerade ball?"

"Maybe. Have you?" Amanda countered. "If so, you'll have to find me first."

Lee grinned suggestively. "Do I get more than a kiss if I find you in the first ten minutes?"

Shaking her head, Amanda couldn't help but smile in return. "If you find me at all, I'll make the night more than worth your while." She extended her right hand. "So, it's a bet?"

Reaching for her hand, Lee nodded. "It's a bet."

"Wait!" Amanda exclaimed, pulling her hand away just before he clasped it. "What do I get when **I** win?"

"**If**," Lee stressed, "you win."

Ignoring him, Amanda said, "It has to be something of equal value to what you'll get if you win." She tipped her head back and stared at him while pondering a suitable prize. A grin spread across her face. "I know! You have to do all the reports for the first week of November!"

"Amanda, that's not even close to equal!" Lee protested.

Amanda raised her eyebrows at him. "Are you backing out of the bet? Afraid you'll lose?"

Lee scowled at her. "Of course not." He reached forward and took her hand firmly in his and pumped it. "It's a bet. May the best **man** win."

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Lee arrived at the ball promptly at nine o'clock. According to the 'rules of engagement' Amanda had set forth for the bet, she had already been there for at least an hour. Dotty's excitement about the event, which he had heard first-hand at dinner two nights ago, led him to believe that she had most likely dragged Amanda to the ball even earlier than the eight o'clock Amanda had anticipated.

As he walked through the double doors into the ballroom, he unconsciously straightened his bow tie, smoothed his tuxedo, and adjusted his black mask. At the top of the staircase that led into the heart of the room, Lee casually leaned against the marble railing and swept a practiced eye around the area, making a mental note of the costume of anyone who remotely reminded him of Amanda. Although he knew she was determined to go all out to deceive him, he was confident that some characteristics of her build and the way she carried herself when she walked and talked would be obvious. Lee was certain that he would easily be able to identify her well within the three hour time limit she had given him. After noting at least a half dozen people to be investigated at closer range, he plunged into the sea of what passed as undercover to the Eastern Star members and their guests.

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Amanda caught sight of Lee the second he entered the ballroom. She smirked at his choice of "costume." The man looked good in anything, but she had to admit that he **really** knew how to wear a tuxedo. It was a look that never failed to make her slightly weak in the knees. Her fingers itched to be smoothing his jacket and straightening his bow tie. Giving herself a mental head-slap, she reminded herself that she was here on a mission, not a date. She watched as Lee scanned the room. Due to her intimate knowledge of his modus operandi, she knew he was choosing likely targets and planning to perform closer inspections of each one. Instead of turning away and keeping herself out of his line of sight, she discreetly kept her eyes on him as he scanned the room. When his gaze passed right over her without the tiniest glimmer of recognition, she allowed herself a smile. For the first time that day, her jitters were replaced with confidence. He definitely wasn't going to recognize her. With a grin, she took a glass of champagne from one of the waiters and made her way through the throng to follow Lee as he descended into the crowd.

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Taking a martini off a tray as he made his way toward suspect number one, Lee smiled at the snippets of conversation he caught while navigating around partygoers. From the brief comments he was overhearing, a great many of attendees were behaving completely in character as the people whose costumes they'd donned. It wasn't unexpected to hear "Elementary, my dear Watson" from every Sherlock Holmes in the room, and it was rather amusing when Robin, staring at one of the many hors d'oeuvre trays, exclaimed "Holy Jumbo Shrimp, Batman!" to his crime-fighting cohort. It did catch him off guard, however, to hear a Jonathan Higgins look-alike regaling stories of the African jungle to a very convincing Agatha Chumley, who was hanging on his every word, while Thomas Magnum and his side-kicks, Rick and T.C., rolled their eyes behind Jonathan's back.

He threaded his way through the crowd with ease, enjoying the conversations as he quickly eliminated the first few women he'd targeted. From a distance, they had all certainly fit Amanda's description, but closer inspection proved they were definite differences. One was sixty-five years old if she was a day, but that hadn't been evident until Lee saw the lines in her face and the liver spots that dotted her arms. Another was a good six inches shorter than Amanda, and reducing her height was a feat even his extremely clever partner wouldn't be able to accomplish. The last one had turned out to be a man! Although Lee had been impressed by the costume, he was taken aback at how he'd been fooled into thinking the man even remotely resembled his wife. The 'potentials' he'd spotted from the landing had been in constant motion, but years of training had allowed him to keep tabs on all of them even while he'd made his way around the room to rule out each one. Lee neatly sidestepped a couple whose stuffed Terrier identified them as Nick and Nora Charles and made a beeline for the nearest prospect.

A whiff of something familiar assaulted his nose, stopping him in his tracks. Making a slow circle to pinpoint the scent's origin, he spotted a tiny woman a few feet away from him. . He had to admit that Amanda had done a superb job with the disguise. Had he not immediately recognized Dotty's very distinctive perfume—a new scent named Boucheron that Lee had given her as a gift upon returning from a business trip to Paris earlier in the year—he might have walked right past her without a second glance. The slightly Oriental scent, with its subtle sandalwood undertone, perfectly suited her costume as a Chinese woman. He was confused about the choice until he spotted her escort: a very padded Dr. Baines dressed as Charlie Chan. Leave it to Dotty and Amanda to do something a little off the beaten path.

A trained agent would resist the impulse to react to hearing her name, but Dotty was a civilian, so Lee opted for a simple approach. Walking toward her, he asked, in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the music and chatter, "Mrs. West, I presume?"

As Lee expected, Dotty turned toward him when she heard her name. He saw confusion in her face as she tried to figure out who had seen through her costume, then disappointment as she realized who he was.

"Lee," she said, her voice echoing the sentiment on her face. She glanced at her watch and sighed. "Fifteen minutes. It only took you fifteen minutes. I thought this," she waved her hand to indicate her wig, mask and dress, "was good enough to keep you guessing all night. Nobody else has recognized me."

"It's an outstanding costume," Lee complimented his mother-in-law. "I barely recognize you in it. I didn't know Amanda had such a knack for disguises."

"Then how did you know?"

Lee crooked a finger to beckon her closer. Bending slightly at the waist, he took a deep sniff behind her ear then whispered, "I'll bet nobody in your Eastern Star chapter would recognize Boucheron."

Dotty's shoulders slumped slightly. "Perfume. You recognized my perfume." After a beat, she brightened and exclaimed, "But you didn't recognize **me**! You wouldn't have known it was me if you hadn't given me that perfume." She jabbed his chest with her index finger. "That's not playing fair!"

Rubbing the spot in his chest he was sure Dotty had caused a permanent dent, Lee defended himself. "All's fair in love, war, and bets. Perfume is as much a part of a costume as a wig is. When you're trying to be someone you're not, it's a good idea to stay away from anything you'd use in your everyday life."

Dotty considered his response for a moment then conceded his point with a nod of her head. "That makes sense." Smiling slyly, she added, "I'll know better next time."

"Next time?" Lee had a fleeting thought of Dotty donning a costume to go grocery shopping, just to see if anyone recognized her. Amanda wasn't going to be pleased that he'd fed the monster. Amanda! How had he forgotten his primary objective? This was a perfect opportunity to glean some information. He looked over Dotty's head to survey the immediate area and asked, as innocently as possible, "Have you seen Amanda recently?"

He knew he hadn't fooled Dotty at all when she leveled him with a scrutinizing gaze. "I have, but I see **you** haven't." Her smile widened, and she rubbed her hands together. "If you think my costume is outstanding, just wait until you see Amanda's . . . if you can find her!"

A wave of self-doubt rippled through Lee. He definitely wouldn't have located Dotty without her use of Boucheron, and his gut told him Amanda wouldn't overlook a detail like that in her own disguise. If she could come up with Dotty's incredible costume, what could she have done for her own? "C'mon, give me a clue," he cajoled. "There are hundreds of people here, and I have less than three hours to find her." When Dotty didn't respond, he tried a bribe. "I'll make it worth your while. I can get rose bushes from the Queen's personal garden."

A gleam in Dotty's eyes let Lee know he'd hit upon something of great interest to her. "How many variations can you . . . " She broke off and tipped her head to one side. "Oh! I love this song!" Dotty turned to locate Dr. Bain. Clasping the doctor's upper arm, she stated, "We **have** to dance." As she and her date began their way to the dance floor, Dotty called over her shoulder, "Good luck, dear. You'll need it!" A few seconds later, they were swallowed by the crowd and out of sight, but Lee could still hear her laughter.

Lee was left standing alone, irritated by Dotty's uncharacteristic closemouthed behavior. He couldn't believe she hadn't provided the slightest hint about Amanda's disguise. As a matter of fact, she seemed positively gleeful that Lee hadn't spotted Amanda yet. He knew that pondering Dotty's attitude wasn't going to get him any closer to finding his wife; he was standing still, but time wasn't. Shaking off the feeling that Amanda's disguise might be next to impossible to see through, he scanned the ballroom to locate another person on his list of potentials.

Just as he approached his next 'suspect,' his progress was thwarted by a palm placed flat onto his chest. Lee had a fleeting impression of hair and teeth before the woman who had halted him turned her head.

"Kelly!" the blonde said excitedly to a woman just behind her. "It's James Bond!" Tugging on her companion's arm, she pulled her forward so they were both standing directly in front of Lee. "I told you I'd seen Double-oh-Seven here somewhere."

Kelly smiled warmly at Lee and held out her right hand as she said, "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Bond," in a mild southern accent.

Lee returned the smile and shook her hand. "It's my pleasure," he responded. After greeting Kelly, he gently took the blonde's hand, which had remained pressed against his chest, and shook it. "And you are?"

"Kris," she answered, her smile wide. Leaning into Lee, she not-so-subtly inquired, "Are you here alone?"

Before Lee could respond, someone from behind Kris called her name, causing her to turn her head to greet a tall, thin brunette. "Oh, there you are, Bri. Come meet James Bond." She encircled the woman's waist with her left arm and drew her forward. "He and I were just getting acquainted," Kris said with a wink and a cat-like grin.

Despite the mask that partially covered Sabrina's face, Lee saw her left eyebrow raise a fraction of an inch. Under her assessing stare, he tugged uncomfortably at his tie, suddenly feeling like a ten year old caught by his uncle for skipping school. The only adult to ever cause that reaction was Amanda. Narrowing his eyes, he speculated. The voice and hair were wrong, but those were easily faked. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd never noticed there was such a strong resemblance between Amanda and Sabrina from _Charlie's Angels_. Or was it just a resemblance between Amanda and the woman standing in front of him?

Bri locked eyes with Lee. In the hazel depths, she seemed to see the letdown he felt when he realized she wasn't Amanda. With a knowing smile, she said, "Forget it, Kris. He's taken." She smoothly extricated her friend's hand from Lee's and nodded at him. "We'll just get out of your way now," she said as she steered Kris into the sea of people behind him with Kelly right behind them.

Lee nodded his thanks and let them go. Her eyes had confirmed that she wasn't Amanda. Eyes that color were most likely natural. She could be wearing contact lenses, but he'd never seen any that could turn eyes as dark brown as his wife's into the pale blue of Bri's. With a shrug, he glanced around the room to locate the guests still remaining on his mental 'could be Amanda' list. Pleased to see that a few of them had found their way to the same area of the ballroom, he headed in their direction.

Passing a group of men discussing their 'cases,' he overheard a British accent recounting the nuances of distinguishing people from robots at the Neoteric Research Unit. If John Steed had made an appearance, surely Mrs. Peel was with him. Emma Peel had played a very important role in Lee Stetson's formative years. She may even have been one of the driving forces that led him into the espionage game. Any reasonable facsimile of the agent was certainly worth a look, and Lee couldn't help himself from turning around to see if Mr. Steed's most famous partner was in attendance. He was rewarded by the sight of a lithe, leather clad, dark-haired beauty who was laughing as Mr. Steed made a point by gesturing dramatically with his signature umbrella. 'Now **that's** what I call a secret agent! They don't make 'em like that anymore!' Lee thought as he appreciatively appraised the woman.

Suddenly noticing that the conversation in Steed's group had stopped, Lee looked up to find he was the center of their attention. The amused expression on the British agent's face told Lee that this was a typical—and perhaps, expected—reaction whenever a healthy male encountered his partner. With a slight smirk, Steed said something to Mrs. Peel. The comment was made too softly for Lee to hear, but the laughter from the woman was enough to convince him that it might not have been very complimentary to him. Unwilling to leave as the object of even the smallest amount of humiliation, he boldly winked at Mrs. Peel and grinned wolfishly. A nod to her partner was rewarded by Steed tipping his bowler to him. Satisfied that he'd at least partially redeemed himself, Lee turned his back on the knot of people and continued the search for his wife.

As the hands of the clock neared the witching hour, Lee was more than a little frustrated. He'd had no luck at all locating his wife. Although there had to be close to two hundred people in the room, Lee was certain he had seen all of them at least once, and a good many of them twice. How could he have missed her? He was beginning to think she had violated the rules and hidden in the kitchen. Deciding another view from the top was in order, he began to skirt his way around the dance floor toward the staircase. He had less than ten minutes to spot her in the crowd, because he would only win the bet if he located her before the midnight unmasking. As he passed one of the many waitresses and took a drink from her tray, something occurred to him. Amanda wouldn't have hidden in the kitchen, but she definitely could have made good use of her knowledge of catering operations. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before, but masquerading as the help was a perfect cover for his wife. Taking the steps two at a time, he quickly positioned himself at the top of the staircase and re-scanned the room, focusing specifically on the staff.

Partway through his surveillance, the familiar sensation of being watched overcame Lee. He slowly turned his head to his left and saw Mrs. Peel standing at the bottom of the stairs staring up at him. When he nodded his acknowledgement of her presence, she smiled slightly and slowly ascended the stairs toward him. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her catlike approach and the seductive sway of her hips. After all, he was married, but he wasn't dead.

"Mr. Bond," she said as she reached the top step. "I don't believe we were introduced when we last . . . met." She offered her hand to him palm-down, the manner suggesting he should kiss, not shake it.

Keeping his eyes trained on hers, he obliged, skimming his lips lightly over the back of her hand. After a brief brush of her knuckles with his thumb, he let go and smiled. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Peel."

"Emma, please."

He figured he might as well play along. "James." He signaled to a waiter who was walking toward the staircase. "Buy you a drink?" At her nod, he took two martinis from the tray and handed one to her. They clinked glasses and sipped. "Mrs. Peel . . . Emma . . . you have no idea how many fantasies I used to have about you."

Her belly-laugh caused him to grin. "What a line! Are you like this in real life, or are you channeling double-oh-seven?"

Lee shrugged noncommittally. "What about you, are you . . . "

The music suddenly faded out and stopped him mid-sentence. He had a sinking feeling that his time was up, a feeling that was immediately confirmed by a gentleman dressed as a Sam Spade-like detective speaking much too loudly into a microphone that the unmasking would take place in 30 seconds. A murmur in the crowd grew louder as everyone began the countdown.

A sense of panic came over Lee. Thirty seconds? How had he gone two hours, fifty-nine minutes, and thirty seconds without locating his own wife in this crowd? "If you'll excuse me, Emma, I have something to do." Frantically, he searched the room, thankful that the announcement was accompanied by the lights going up, allowing him a better look at the roomful of people.

"Something more important than getting to know me?" Emma purred as she sidled closer to him and placed her hand on his arm. "Are you on some secret mission from MI-5? I could help, you know. I **am** a trained agent."

"Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . ." The anticipation in the crowd was becoming more evident as the countdown neared its culmination. The noise grew louder with each second as more people joined in the counting. Smiles and bright eyes indicated the excitement the party-goers felt as the time of unmasking fast approached. Those who hadn't been found out by their friends would soon be reveling in their triumphs. Lee thought briefly of Dotty. He was certain she would be greeted by gasps of surprise when she removed her mask . . . and she'd be talking about it for months.

"Thanks, but I don't think anyone can help me now," Lee muttered. A sick feeling was quickly growing in the pit of his stomach. He was seconds away from having to admit that Amanda was able to come up with a disguise to fool him. What's worse, losing the bet meant he'd be doing paperwork for weeks.

It was Emma's turn to shrug. "Okay." She moved closer to him and whispered, "Maybe I can help get your mind off whatever's bothering you."

"Three . . . two . . . one!" A cheer arose from the crowd at the end of the countdown, and Lee looked around the room at all the happy and surprised faces as masks were removed.

Emma slid her hands to Lee's face. "Let's just see who's behind the mask, James." Peeling the wisp of black off him, she smiled seductively. "Has anyone ever told you that you have incredibly sexy eyes?"

"Well, actually, my—"

"I say, I believe that's **my** partner, isn't it?" clipped British tones below him said in an accusatory manner.

While extricating himself from Emma's grasp, Lee turned toward the voice. He'd heard a snippet of Steed's story earlier in the evening, but there was something different about the man's accent now. Lee couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something familiar about it. As Steed purposefully strode up the staircase, Lee said, "Ah, sorry old man. She was just helping me with my mask."

Upon reaching the top of the steps, Steed placed the tip of his umbrella in Lee's chest and gently nudged him backward, away from Peel. "Who said I was talking to you?"

Lee's eyebrows furrowed. "What the . . . ?"

Emma extended her right hand toward Lee while removing her mask with her left. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Marlene Dawson, from the Steno Pool." Lee's expression remained fixed. Marlene turned a questioning gaze on Steed, and when Steed nodded, she looked back at Lee and continued. "The Steno Pool at **IFF**," she stressed.

A glimmer of recognition—not of the woman, but of the setup—dawned on Lee. Amanda had recruited help from right under his nose. He shook Marlene's proffered hand as he took a closer look at her. He found it hard to believe that she worked at IFF and he hadn't recognized her at all. Then again, trips to the Steno Pool had been few and far between in the past couple of years.

"When Mrs. King said she needed help on an assignment, and that I was perfect for the job, well . . . " Marlene's eyes began to glow. "I don't know how she knew I only took the job in the Steno Pool to try and become an agent, but I was **so** excited that she would think of **me** and ask for **my** help! Imagine, **me**, not much more than a secretary, and only at IFF for a couple months, and I was being asked to work with the great 'Scarecrow' and Mrs. King! I mean, Mr. Stetson, you're positively **legendary** in the Steno Pool. Oh." She blushed slightly and turned to Steed. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded, I swear. I only meant that Mr. Stetson is such a great agent. Everyone knows he's the best." She swung her gaze back to Lee. "Honest. The **best**! And Mrs. King, well, she's amazing. She told me all about how much she's learned from you, and I wanted to learn, too, so I jumped at the chance to work with her. I had no idea how much **fun** working undercover could be!"

Lee closed his eyes and gently massaged the bridge of his nose. He knew exactly why Amanda had picked Marlene. It wasn't always opposites that attracted. If he didn't stop the rambling soon, he was going to have a severe headache. Palm raised, he begged, "Emma, please stop." He took a moment to absorb her words before opening his eyes. "Well, Emma . . . Marlene," he corrected himself with a wry smile, "you have learned well. And so have you," he admitted, turning to face Steed.

Steed smiled and tossed his hat at Lee. Shoulder-length brown hair was revealed as the wig followed the hat. After removing the mask, Steed pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and began to remove makeup, slowly revealing Amanda beneath the grease paint.

Shaking his head, Lee commented, "I should have known. It's the oldest trick in the book, using an obvious distraction to keep me from having more than a passing interest in you."

Amanda's smile widened. "I learned from the best," she commented. Holding the umbrella by the tip, she used the handle to hook Lee around the arm and pull him close to her.

Admiration shone from his eyes as he looked into hers and said, "Nope. **I** did."

With a grin, Amanda acknowledged the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without Marlene." She gave the young woman a warm smile and said, "Thank you. You were a wonderful distraction. I'm going to talk to Mr. Melrose about you."

Marlene's eyes shone with excitement and gratitude. "Oh! Thank you, Mrs. King! That's so great of you. I mean, you don't have to, but I really appreciate it, because I **so** want to be an agent, and—"

"Marlene." Amanda stopped the woman's flood of words. "Why don't you go on home now? I'll see you in the office on Monday."

Watching Marlene's retreating back, Lee commented, "I think she's floating out of here." He stared down into his wife's eyes. "You just made a big commitment. I hope you're ready for it."

"I'm more ready for it than you were when you enlisted a stranger at a train station."

He chuckled. "I'm still not completely ready for that." Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against hers. "I never will be, and that's the beauty of it."

"Mmm-hmm." Amanda wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and lightly fingered the hair along his collar. "So, Mr. Bond," she said as she looked suggestively into his eyes, "do you still wanna make out with an intelligence agent at a masquerade ball?"

"I do, but . . . " Lee took a step back and eyed her from head to toe. "Not while you're wearing those clothes!" As he undid her tie, he suggested, "Maybe if we get rid of this." He slid the tie from her neck and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Assessing her, he shook his head. "Not quite. Maybe if we lost the coat . . . " He pushed Amanda's jacket off her shoulders and down her arms, letting it drop to the floor after the sleeves passed her fingertips. "That's better, but you're still too . . . " eyeing her manly form, he grinned and said, "British." Wiggling his eyebrows, he reached for the top button of her shirt.

Amanda caught his hands between hers and gently removed his fingers from the button. "Sorry, buster, but you lost the bet," she reminded her husband. With a glint in her eye, she commented, "Maybe if you finish all your paperwork without complaining . . ."

Lee sighed and bent to pick up the fallen jacket. Hooking it with his left index finger, he deftly swung it over his shoulder. "Don't hold your breath," he muttered, causing Amanda to laugh. He slid his right arm around her waist, and they began to walk toward the exit. Suddenly, he halted and snapped his fingers. "I've got it!" Accepting her raised eyebrows as a prompt to continue, Lee triumphantly proclaimed, "Double or nothing!"

Amanda rolled her eyes and resumed walking.

"C'mon, Amanda, give me a break!" Lee pleaded at Amanda's retreating back. "I know—two weeks of paperwork if you can, um, well, if you can convince Francine to wear something off-the-rack to the next embassy event? Heck, that'd be worth a whole month of paperwork. Amanda." Lee watched his wife disappear through the ballroom doors. "Amanda?"

**The End**


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